Master Of Death

Chapter 18 - End

Harry POV

I watch as Gandalf takes off with the eagles in search of the two missing Hobbits, only turning around to help the others once the Istari is out of sight. We are gathering up the men who have assisted us. We are tending to the fallen and injured, before being able to go back to Minas Tirith. The image was difficult to look at, one that would haunt me, but it's one I had to deal with nonetheless. Men were huddled together in groups, puddles and smeared blood mixed with grime and mud everywhere I look. There were missing limbs, limp bodies, and broken weapons scattered around the battlefield.Our focus, unfortunately, is not with the fallen, but with those who need immediate medical attention.

Using the few healing spells that I know, as well as the nature surrounding us, I help as much as I can. Mostly, I am staunching blood loss and wrapping the stumps of those that survived the ordeal of having limbs removed.. Gandalf never returns to the group, so the assumption is that he is still trying to locate Sam and Frodo. I still can't sense three of them, the worry tensing my shoulders and wand movements. I don't relax, not until Legolas walks over and places a hand on my shoulder.

"We are just about to leave, once you've finished up here, Harry? I just - it's going to be okay." Legolas' cheeks are dusted pink as he tries to think of what to say. He is unsure while in front of others, and I can only smile faintly at him.

"Yeah, I'm done, let's go," I say. Turning to the man I had just been wrapping a nasty gash for, I ask, "Can you stand?"

"Yes, thank you." The male nods, unsteadily getting to his own feet and heading towards the waiting group.

We are soon on our way to Minas Tirith and we arrive barely ten minutes later. To our surprise, Gandald had also returned, a mere half an hour before.

"Are they...?" Aragorn cuts himself off, not willing to finish the thought, or ask the question.

Gandalf's grave expression wasn't promising. He sighed, nodding towards a nearby room. "Alive, yes, but they are injured. I got to them just in time," Gandalf says heavily. "You should go to rest and eat. Sam and Frodo will likely sleep for the day and night."

We all nod, leaving for the kitchens, Legolas remaining beside me as Aragorn and Gimili take the lead. Merry and Pippin are the only ones that do not come with us, they refuse to leave their friends, and so Aragorn promises to bring them food.

I reluctantly follow. Legolas' gaze barely leaves me as though a question was burning inside of him. I am afraid to talk to the Elf, unsure of how the conversation about our feelings might go - if that is even what he wants to talk about. I know that I love him, and would gladly spend the rest of my life with him... but would he?

I heave a sigh, sitting at the nearest empty seat, staring down at the dark wood of the table. I am distantly wondering at the lack of food appearing from the kitchens? Where are the house elves working? Then a tapping on my shoulder brings me quickly out of the exhaustion-induced daze. Aragorns' concerned face coming into focus, Legolas beside him holding two plates of food.

"Ah, sorry. Guess I forgot where I was for a moment. Thanks for bringing me a plate, Legolas."

"You just concerned us, is all, Harry. Eat, then go get some rest. Both of you." Aragorn says, quickly leaving the room after.

Legolas grips my hand in his for a few seconds, then letting go to eat his own food.

"I agree with Aragorn, Harry. Everything else can wait until later. For now, eat, okay?" His voice is soft, helping me relax slightly.

I nod, bringing a piece of fruit up to take a bite. We spend the rest of the meal in a comfortable silence. After the meal, we find the room we were allowed to borrow and curled up together, falling into a blissfully blank sleep.